January 11, 2015

Helen Jacobi

Genesis 1:1-5     Psalm 29     Acts 19:1-7     Mark 1:4-11

Sermon notes:

• enjoying a magical beach holiday – sun, sea, views, lazy days

• reverie broken by the terrible shootings of the staff of the Charlie Hebdo magazine

• drew the attention of the world

• more so as we have twice lived in Paris and Miryam is there for a few days

• found ourselves more than usually a bit glued to our phones checking news updates

• no longer in the magical world of holiday

• as we come to worship today, a mere 3 Sundays after Christmas we are no longer in the magical world of the baby, the shepherds, the angels and the magi

• we are back with John the Baptist, with whom we have already spent time two of the four Sundays of Advent. And he’ll be back at the beginning of Lent which is not that far away

• our attention today is drawn not so much to John the Baptist but to Jesus himself and his experience of baptism

• by giving us the opening words from Genesis the lectionary gives us two beginnings – the beginnings of creation and the beginnings of Jesus’ ministry.

• God at the beginning of time breathed life in to the world; The wind from God swept over the face of the waters

• The wind – “ruach” – or breath, or spirit, or mauri ora, God’s creative breath at the beginning followed by light; light breaking into the darkness of the void.

• then that day by the Jordan river the heavens were torn apart and the Spirit came upon Jesus in the form of a dove; the spirit – pneuma – ruach – the wind, the breath of God.

• The dove makes the scene sound gentle and quiet but the sky was torn apart and a voice came also You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased. Tihei mauri ora !

• the heavens were torn apart, not like the violence in Paris, but torn apart more in the sense of a new thing happening, a birth maybe.

• This scene is paralleled at the end of Mark’s Gospel, at the crucifixion: (Mark 15:37-39)

Then Jesus gave a loud cry and breathed his last. And the curtain of the temple was torn in two, from top to bottom. Now when the centurion, who stood facing him, saw that in this way he breathed his last, he said, ‘Truly this man was God’s Son!’

• The curtain in the Temple hides the sanctuary, the holy of holies, where in Jewish belief God himself was thought to dwell;

• it is torn from top to bottom;

• in the same way as the heavens were torn at Jesus’ baptism, to show God breaking though into our lives, into creation; there is no longer any separation. And it is a human, the centurion, a Roman and a sinner, who this time declares that Jesus is God’s son; not a voice from heaven but a voice from earth.

Rev Barbara Lundblad, a Lutheran preacher says:

 “From the day he saw the heavens torn apart, Jesus began tearing apart the pictures of whom Messiah was supposed to be –

Tearing apart the social fabric that separated rich from poor. 


Breaking through hardness of heart to bring forth compassion. 


Breaking through rituals that had grown rigid or routine. 


Tearing apart the chains that bound some in the demon's power. 


Tearing apart the notions of what it means to be God's Beloved Son.

Nothing would ever be the same, for the heavens would never again close so tightly.” [1]

• and yet the world is not “fixed”; the demons of violence and terror still carry on

• people have rallied across the world to defend the freedom of the cartoonists and writers to speak

• people have tweeted and facebooked #jesuischarlie

• social media allows us to feel connected to events across the world; to feel like we are doing something

• yet what difference have our tweets made to the Nigerian schoolgirls; to the Sydney shooting victims; N for Nazarene still appears on twitter as the slaughter of Christians continues in Iraq

• some of the commentary does help us to think and reflect on the issues bound up in these events

• the cartoons of the Charlie Hebdo magazine make our St Matthew’s billboards seem very tame; Charlie Hebdo stands in a long French tradition of satire which calls to account leaders of all religions; all politicians; French satire is a whole cultural world – clever and biting all at the same time

• as people of faith we have to be able to laugh at ourselves; not take ourselves too seriously; and many Moslem leaders have said that while they find the cartoons deeply offensive, they defend the right of people to draw them. In fact in France there are limits on free speech; you cannot incite hatred of an ethnic group or religion; there is a specific law forbidding the denial of the Holocaust, a favourite tenet of the French far right. There are often cases testing these laws and the limits of free speech.

• although in France on the other hand a girl cannot wear a headscarf to a public school; a freedom the French haven’t managed to allow

• nor can a Christian wear a cross

• But nothing like in northern Iraq you do not have the right to be a Christian, let alone to speak publicly about your faith

• freedom of speech is fundamental to freedom of religion

• and those of us with the freedom to speak need to continue to do so

• Robert Darden writing for the Huffington Post

If you are a believer and you believe that the God Who created the universe loves you, then I believe that you can probably conceive of a God who can handle humor, laughter, teasing, and – yes – satire. That's the description of a Big God. A little God gets easily offended by the chattering of minuscule bipeds on a backwater planet at the edge of an insignificant solar system in the quiet suburbs of a very, very big universe.

The ability to understand and appreciate satire, religious or political, is one of the defining, distinctive qualities of an actualized, fully functioning human being, one who is big enough to occasionally laugh at himself or herself, and one who knows that occasionally his or her sacred cow is going to get gored.

Anne Lamott calls laughter "carbonated holiness." There is such a thing as holy laughter, thank goodness. [2]

• so at the beginning of this year; with the words of creation and the description of Jesus’ baptism what are we called to do?

• if the heavens were to be torn apart what might we hear?

• we would hear the breath of God from creation

• at the beginning of this year we can hear the voice of God saying every child is beloved; every child has a place

• we can hear the laughter of God above the tears of God

• as people of faith we are called to reach out to our Moslem brothers and sisters and create a world where hatred cannot win

• where we can get to know each other and learn from each other

• and laugh together

[1] http://day1.org/535-torn_apart_forever Barbara Lundblad, sermon 2003

[2] http://www.huffingtonpost.com/robert-f-darden/in-the-wake-of-charlie-he_b_6431010.html?ncid=tweetlnkushpmg00000055